


Let The Crime Fit The Punishment

by SisterWine



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterWine/pseuds/SisterWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detectives Benson and Tutuola must figure out if a pedophile is really guilty of a crime.</p><p>Disclaimer: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, John Munch, Capt. Cragen, Nick Amaro and Dr. Melinda Warner are all characters of Law & Order: SVU. These characters belong to series creator Dick Wolf. I make no claim to either the show or to the characters. Matthew, Daniel, Emma and Edward Foster, Corrine Bradley and other miscellaneous characters belong to me. This story is fiction. I make no money from it. I do not buy, trade, sell or even take requests. For entertainment use only!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! Implied Rape.

Corrine Bradley waited for the doors to the elevator to open before stepping out and looking both ways down the corridor of the precinct. Looking left, she noticed a few plain clothes detectives as well as uniformed officers shuffling people in handcuffs around, getting witness statements and talking about miscellaneous cases. She stepped forward and cautiously walked into the squadroom but stopped in the doorway. She surveyed the room and looked for a detective that wasn't too busy to ask. Spotting Detective Olivia Benson, Corrine stepped forward and cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

 

Olivia stood next to Detective Munch's desk, sifting through a brown file folder with another case's information but stopped when she heard the young woman's voice amid the hectic room. "Can I help you?" Olivia smiled pleasantly and tried to calm the young woman who appeared somewhat shaken.

 

Out of nervousness, Corrine clutched her tan sweater at the collar and took a step forward. "I think I need to talk to someone about my friend. I think he was raped."

 

Closing the folder and placing it down on Munch's paper-strewn desk, Olivia looked around the squadroom and found an empty corner/file room where they could talk more in private. She lead Corrine into the small file space and offered her a chair. "Okay, you said your friend might have been raped."

 

"Yes. His name is Matthew and he lives across the hall from me." Corrine sat down but kept her eyes on Olivia as the tough, female detective came around to sit down, across from her.

 

"How old is Matthew?" Olivia had several questions for her but knew that Matthew had to be the one to come forward with the accusation before she could do anything.

 

Corrine thought for a moment. "I think he is around my age, maybe older? So, in his twenties? I know he should have come with me but I can't even get him to go to the hospital and I think he'd freak out if I asked him to come here." She could feel herself becoming more frantic than she really should have been but tried to calm herself down by reminding herself that she was doing the right thing in trying to help her neighbour and friend.

 

"Why do you think he was raped? Did he say anything to you? Did you see what happened?" Olivia had grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, after ushering Corrine into the room, and began writing down notes even if they lead to her turning the woman away. She studied Corrine's features and mannerisms and tried to determine if this was the truth or a lie. She had seen nearly every sort of cover up victims would use to try and clean their consciences but there was always a possibility for something new.

 

Corrine shook her head. "Nothing like that. Yesterday morning, I was getting ready to leave for class. I take a few classes at CUNY. Anyway, um, I was opening my door to leave when Matt came home. His clothes were dirty and he looked pretty beat up. The inside of his pantleg was covered in blood. When I asked him if he was alright, he acted really freaked out. I went over to check on him but he was asleep. I know this sounds like crap but, I think something happened to him."

 

Olivia wrote down what Corrine had said and circled Matthew's name. "Most victims, when something this bad happens, get scared and it can be a very terrifying experience to open up to the police about it. Men have a harder time dealing with this kind of assault." When she looked up, after finishing writing, she caught a glance of Corrine's fear for Matthew. "Look,--"

 

"Corrine. Corrine Bradley."

 

"Corrine. I understand your concern for him but, he needs to be the one to come and make a statement. Does he know his attacker? Did he see anything that can help prove his case? It's details like that that can help us move forward." Olivia put her pen down and leaned forward, across the table. Her voice was calm and soft.

 

Sighing and biting her bottom lip out of nervousness, Corrine weighed the options of divulging more about Matthew than she should have. "Look, I don't know that much about him but I know that an officer comes over every other week and checks on him but the guy has like major authority issues. He kicks in the door, tosses stuff around, messes up Matt's apartment. That's on a good day. So, I don't think I'd be able to get him down here to make a statement. I know something happened to him and I can't force him but, he doesn't have anyone else." She brushed a stray lock of hair back, behind her right ear and waited for Olivia to process what she had said.

 

Olivia was confused. "This man that checks on Matthew, he's a uniformed officer?"

 

Corrine shook her head and took a deep breath. "No, he wears his own clothes but he has this badge on his belt. I know Matt was in trouble a few years ago but never said what he did. He's a sweet guy and whatever he did, he did his time. No one should be a victim of this kind of Hell."

 

Sitting back, Olivia seriously considered looking into Matthew and his past before getting too deeply involved. However, if he was an innocent victim, she had an obligation to make sure he was not overlooked.

 

Matthew Foster  
5428 East 9th Ave.  
Apartment 19C, Greenwich

 

Detective Fin Tutuola knocked on the door and waited for the door to open. Movement had come from inside, close to the door but he couldn't tell what was being moved. When the door opened, he and Olivia held up their badges and introduced themselves to the disheveled young man that peered warily at them from a crack in the door. "Matthew Foster? Detectives Tutuola and Benson. May we talk to you a minute?"

 

Matthew opened the door wider and reluctantly let them in. His apartment had been obviously trashed from his parole officer being there just days before. "I haven't done anything. I promised I won't tell anyone." He backed up as they entered and shut the door behind them. Limping and supporting his left arm with his right, Matthew managed to slowly cross the room to the faded brown sofa and sat back down, watching both detectives carefully. His shoulder-length brown hair had been mussed from sleep and his clothes wrinkled, indicating that he had changed the day before.

 

"Promised you wouldn't tell what, Matthew? Your neighbour was worried about you and asked us to come and talk to you." Olivia stepped forward and visually examined the young man painfully sitting at the far end of the sofa. "Were you attacked?" The sun had beamed through the thin white bedsheet that had been used as a curtain, giving her both shade so she didn't have to squint to see him and keeping it light enough so that she could see the fresh bruises on his face and arms.

 

Looking from Fin, who took the opportunity to look around the barely furnished apartment, to Olivia, Matthew thought carefully about answering. As another pang of pain from his ribs struck, he decided his answer. "Look, I get it. What I did was wrong. I haven't done anything to anybody since I got out. Please just leave me alone!" Averting his eyes and breathing hard but trying to keep it from being too noticeable, Matthew swallowed as another shot of pain surged through his right side.

 

Fin had walked around to the tall, honey-wood entertainment center and looked at the objects on the shelves. "You got busted for raping a little girl back in '06, got out last year." He went back to looking at the things on the shelves but stopped as his eyes came across an old Polaroid of three children, sitting on a park bench at the zoo.

 

"I did my time. Please just leave me alone." Matthew eyed what Fin was doing but glanced back at Olivia to make sure she kept her distance.

 

Olivia came to sit down on the other end of the sofa and took a closer look at Matthew's left arm. "We aren't here to arrest you. Your neighbour, Corrine, was worried about you. She said you might have been raped, yesterday. We're officers from Special Victims Unit. Would you tell us what happened?"

 

"I know who you are. And, nothing happened. Please just go away!" Matthew had tried to stand up to walk to the door but another shot of pain had stopped him and began to make him physically ill.

 

Fin turned, still holding the photo. "Your P.O. know you have this?"

 

A groan. "Yes."

 

"He doesn't take it?"

 

"No. It's a personal photo of me and my brother and sister." Matthew closed his eyes as he shifted on the sofa and instantly regretted it.

 

Olivia looked concerned and moved closer. "Matthew, what happened to that little girl was dealt with. Our job is to help the victims of sexual abuse, even those who've caused it." She could tell by the expression he looked at her with that he was genuinely shocked at her concern for him.

 

Matthew felt ill but struggled to stay conscious until they left. "There is no help for me. You help innocent victims, not criminals." Forcing himself to stand up, Matthew took three steps towards the bedroom, beyond where Fin still stood at the entertainment center, to the left of the sofa, and collapsed onto the tan carpeting, losing consciousness in mid-fall.

 

Olivia darted off of the sofa and rushed over to help the unconscious young man, carefully examining him as she called it in.

 

"Liv," Fin had moved from the shelving unit to just inside Matthew's bedroom and noticed the pile of soiled clothing, on the floor at the end of the made up twin bed. He held up the blood-stained jeans for his partner to see before looking back down at Matthew.

 

Harold Davies  
Parole Officer  
20th Street, Manhattan

The tall, burly man maneuvered around stacks of file folders and overstuffed boxes to sit at his desk that had been buried under paperwork long ago. He had been a transplanted Texan and still lived as if he never left, oversized belt buckles, cowboy boots and old Stetson that now resided on top of a file cabinet, that had been shoved against the wall, next to the office door. "Matthew Foster is a punk kid that molests little kids. You think he doesn't know how to manipulate other people?"

 

Nick Amaro stood in the doorway and debated stepping into the mess of paperwork that Harold Davies called an office. Amaro concluded that it looked more like a walk-in closet with a file cabinet. "You tell me, considering he was just admitted to St. Vincent Hospital as an assault victim. When was the last time you checked on him?"

Davies thought a moment. He sat down and leaned back in his swivel chair that had lasted, somehow, since the 80s. He was a man in his fifties but hid his age well by working out daily and taking excellent care of himself. "Uh, last week sometime."

 

"Find anything out of the ordinary?"

 

"Nope. But, that doesn't mean he doesn't have hidey-holes for his collection of kiddy porn. These sick perverts will do or say anything to point the finger away from them. If he got his up-and-comings, maybe it'll be a lesson of justice for him." Davies seemed pleased with the situation of knowing that a child molester was given his "just desserts." However, he had been curious as to what brought the SVU detective down to see him. "Did he get a little scratch and pass out? How bad are we talkin' about 'assault', here?"

 

Amaro stepped forward, amidst the clutter of paperwork. "Someone gave him a concussion, a few broken ribs, broken arm as well as sexual assault. He doesn't call in every week?"

 

"Nope. Like I said, he's a young punk that gets off raping little kids. What's Special Vics doin' holdin' his hand?" Davies seemed less interested in Matthew's assault and more interested in why SVU detectives considered him a victim.

 

Being that Matthew was technically a registered sex offender, Amaro was having trouble trying to stay neutral. "For the moment, he's a victim of sexual assault. Regardless of what he did to get put in your care, I'm just checking his story out. Getting sued by a sex offender doesn't look good for the city. They have rights, too." He choked on his words but not audibly. "How often does he check in?"

 

Davies sat forward and moved some papers around on his desk, uncovering a small computer that was used to keep track of electrical devices. It looked like a hand-held laptop but resembled more of a calculator. "He checks in every two weeks but I get notices when he goes out of his allowed zones. So far, I only have one notice that he was in the neighbourhood he was restricted from."

 

The notice caught Amaro's attention and he stepped forward again. "When was that?" Taking out his pen and small pad of paper, he readied himself for the information.

 

Davies sighed, annoyedly, but checked the time and date. "Two nights ago, 1:45 AM. Stayed there for about four hours."

 

Amaro looked concerned. "You take that thing home with you?"

 

"Yea."

 

"You didn't get up to check on him?"

 

Davies narrowed his eyes at the accusation. "I have 15 of these scumbags I have to keep track of. On top of that, my wife thinks I'm hidin' out at work. But, to answer the question, I was babysittin' one of my other delinquents, on the other side of town."

 

Amaro was less than impressed. "So, you aren't the least bit concerned that he violated parole and could have done anything within those four hours?"

 

Davies glared over at Amaro. "Like I said, I was watching another jackass perv, on the other side of town. When Foster's done suckin' his thumb and gettin' sympathy for his bumps and bruises, I'll be more than happy to spank his ass and put him back in time out. Anything else I can help you with, detective?"

 

"That'll be just fine, thanks. Have a nice day."

 

~~~~~

"So, Corrine Bradley never got the notice of Matthew Foster being a convicted child rapist or, she didn't believe it. Matthew either got caught being where he wasn't supposed to or it was a random act of violence. Either way, this kid's batting a thousand if he keeps playing the 'innocent victim'. Meanwhile, thousands of kids in New York aren't gonna feel safe if we keep protecting a pedophile." Fin Tutuola stared at the clear board with Matthew's 8x10 glossy hanging up. Below, each had written down facts of what they had gathered about him.

 

Olivia sat on a clear spot of her desk and folded her arms. "How many pedophiles are actually remorseful about what they did? Matthew was in pain, yes but, I think he knows what right and wrong are. Uniforms searched the house and didn't find anything, no phone, no computer, not even a TV and video equipment."

 

Nick tapped at the taped up photo of Harold Davies. "Davies, Matthew's parole officer, mentioned that Matthew's monitor tracked him in a neighbourhood where he wasn't supposed to be. But," Nick held up a foldable map of the city with a red outline of Matthew's destinations, "he works at a meat packing place on Charles Street and lives on East 9th. But, he has to go down to Perry Street and take the bus or a cab to get home, instead of just cutting through on Christopher, which is where his monitor caught him when he was attacked."

 

"And, Christopher Street is where the victim lived. If he had a set schedule, what made him change his routine on that night?" Fin stared at the map and wondered aloud.

 

Captain Cragen came out of his office and stopped beside Olivia's desk. "That was the hospital. Matthew's awake. Liv, you and Fin finish your talk with him, Nick, John, why not pay his parents a visit and find out why they haven't been to visit their only living son."

 

Continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Home of  
Emma and Edward Foster  
4250 East Colonial  
Queens

Detective John Munch sat down on the plush sofa, across from Mr. and Mrs. Foster and jotted down notes in his small pad. "When was the last time you saw or spoke to Matthew?" The veteran detective paused from his writing long enough to make eye contact with the mother first and then the father, who stood behind his wife as she sat down on the matching sofa, opposite Munch. He wasn't expecting an overly emotional answer but the answer he got instead, was anything but what he expected.

Emma Foster sat forward and placed her tea cup down on the saucer, on the glass coffee table between she and Munch. "We haven't seen or spoken to him since Daniel died." She was a middle aged woman with brown hair and hazel eyes. Her petite structure and thin face resembled that of an older version of the little girl in the photo that he had found in Matthew's apartment. "Is Matthew in trouble again?"

"Something like that." Munch said flatly.

Nick removed a silver picture frame from the mantle and looked at the picture of the whole family, taken on a past vacation to a theme park out west. "Matthew was assaulted two nights ago, on his way home. He was admitted to St. Vincent's in Manhattan. He has three broken ribs, minor concussion, fractured arm and sexual trauma. That doesn't raise concern to you?" Amaro noticed neither parent showed any signs of emotion.

Edward Foster walked around to sit next to his wife, on the sofa. "We haven't wanted to know anything about Matthew since he was arrested for what he did to that little girl. It was bad enough dealing with Danny's funeral, we couldn't bare to sit through a trial and hear all the perverted things Matthew had done. We had just come back from burying our little girl, and now that happened." Edward's tone increased with disgust as he wrapped an arm around his wife to comfort her while eying the frame Amaro still held.

"How old was she, when she died?" Nick stared down at the picture of two early teenaged boys and a years younger sister.

"She had just turned 14. That picture was taken about three years prior. She was killed by a stray bullet in a drive-by. The boys were shaken but I guess Matthew took it especially hard." Edward sighed and met eyes with his wife. "Matthew was the oldest. Danny idolised his brother and Jessica--" hanging his head, he took a moment to reflect on his daughter's memory, "they worshipped her." Edward resembled an older version of Matthew, handsome and toned, short brown hair and thin-rimmed glasses outlining his almond-shaped brown eyes.

Munch leaned forward, pen and notepad poised in his hands. "Did Matthew ever touch his sister? Maybe peek in on her in the shower? Make any kind of sexual comments to her?"

Edward fumed. "We trusted our boys with their sister. If anything had happened to her, she would have told us, immediately." It wasn't so much as the line of questions that were being asked but the indication of perversion of brother and sister. He had never wanted to think of any of his children being abused or the abuser but had no choice in answering what the detectives listed. Since he and Emma severed ties with their only living son, Edward had gone against his own rule and had taken midday trips to Greenwich, to spy on his child. It made him both hurt and upset that Matthew's life had turned out that way but, he was powerless to change it.

Nick replaced the photo and frame on the mantle and sidestepped to sit down a foot apart from his partner. "When did Daniel die?"

Emma started to answer but Edward hushed her and took over speaking. "June 9, 2006."

Munch wrote down the date and stared at what he wrote. The date sounded familiar. "The day that Matthew was arrested."

"They were supposed to be at a friend's house. The next thing we know, the police are knocking on our door, telling us Danny's dead and Matthew was arrested for raping a child." Edward's disgust turned to anger as he slowly became more and more unsettled at the detectives who wouldn't leave them alone. "After that, we decided to spare ourselves anymore pain so,"

Munch's brow furrowed at the statement. "You left Matthew holding the bag. Did you get his side of the story, at all?"

Edward stared, shocked, at Munch's accusation. "Are you calling us bad parents? We lost our only little girl to violence that could have been avoided, our youngest son to a driver who didn't see him and then, our oldest getting arrested for molesting a little girl. Just how much of that would you be able to take, detective? It hurt all of us, what he did. So, we sold the house and moved here."

Nick stood and was quick to quell any hot tempers. "Whoa, we aren't here to imply anything. We're just here as part of the investigation of Matthew's attack. It would help if we had a bigger backstory than what was in the files from his arrest. That's all." Thinking he had better take over the interview, Nick took a deep breath and confined his questioning to something more easier to answer. "What was Matthew like, growing up? Any hobbies? Did Daniel have any hobbies like Matthew's?"

The couple looked at each other and thought back to watching their children grow up. "Matthew loved putting models of cars and planes together. When he was 12, Danny was 8, they built a model T together. They were so excited to do something together. They were so close. Matthew wouldn't let anything happen to his brother or sister. And when 2006 came, well," Emma couldn't finish her statement. Instead, she stood and excused herself from the room. She had spent years thinking of what dangers held for her only living son, wanting desperately to see him, talk to him and hold him but her husband refused. The pressure of not knowing was becoming too much for her and as the two detectives relayed Matthew's current settings, Emma felt ill.

"I think it's time for you to go." Edward said flatly and ushered Amaro and Munch out of the freshly refurnished brownstone.

Walking down the front steps, Munch tucked his notepad back into his inside jacket pocket and glanced over at his partner. "What's with that last question? You think Matthew took the fall for someone?" He didn't want to admit it that he had his doubts as well. Always the conspiracy-minded, John Munch couldn't be bothered with the alternative explanation of things yet, in Matthew's case, he had been puzzled from the start.

Nick was one step ahead of him and as he stepped down, off of the steps, he stopped and turned to his partner. "Liv mentioned that Matthew was genuinely sorry for what he had done. Most pedophiles believe their victims love them and want a relationship with them. Matthew didn't have any kiddy porn, no souvenirs, he didn't even act like a normal rapist would. His P.O. was ready to just toss his name onto the pile of hardened criminals but, something just doesn't feel right."

 

"What do you mean?"

"If Matthew raped that little girl, there'd be some small evidence of it, before it happened. Right? His sister's naked doll, pictures of little girls or his sister getting dressed and such. Either the parents aren't talking about it or something doesn't add up. Maybe Liv and Fin had something shake loose." Nick walked around to the driver's side of the dark blue Crown Victoria and opened the door to sit down inside.

 

St. Vincent Hospital  
Room 153  
Matthew Foster  
1:28 PM

Matthew reclined on the elevated half of the mattress and stared out the window, rain had started falling and a light mist was trickling through the city. His head had finally stopped hurting and he was enjoying the silence and comfort of the room. His room door opened and the nurse, who had been to see him every 30 minutes since he woke up, lead the same two detectives that had watched him pass out. His head turned to see the nurse but turned back as he caught sight of Benson and Tutuola, sighing in defeat. He waited until the nurse checked his vitals, made notes on the chart and then left quietly before looking back at the two officers.

"How are you feeling?" Olivia stopped at the left side of Matthew's bed while Fin stayed back a few steps.

Matthew shrugged. "Apparently, I'll live."

Fin took a step forward. "You're lucky you get to do that much. Doc said if you got beat any worse, you'd be dead, long before we knocked on your door." He met eyes with the younger man that started to glare at him but quickly retracted as Fin's stone cold expression stared him down.

Matthew shifted on the bed and winced in pain. "I know, I violated my parole and when I get outta here, I go back to jail. I don't need you two to tell me that. Please just leave me alone." Another wince as he shifted again, this time to adjust his pillow behind his head. He groaned as the room started to spin."We'll see. Why don't you tell us why you were in that neighbourhood? Why did you violate your parole?" Olivia cocked her head to one side and retrieved her small, spiral notebook from her pocket, detaching the pen that had been clipped to the cover. She flipped it open and waited for him to talk.

Sighing, Matthew turned away and looked out at the rain that began to fall a little heavier than before. "I was cold. Just wanted to get home."

Fine stepped forward again and stopped at the end of the bed, looking down on Matthew. "Why were you out so late? Your P.O. said you had an 11PM curfew."

"My landlord raised my rent so, I asked my boss if I could work an extra shift. He said sure but I had to talk to my P.O. about it. When I asked Davies, he said fine but I had 10 minutes from the time I left work to the time I got home. It worked out for a few days but, that night was colder than the last. Didn't have money for a cab and the buses don't run that late so, I took a chance and cut through Christopher Street. I wasn't lookin' for kids, just wanted to get home." Matthew hadn't bothered with eye contact as he knew neither detective would believe him so, he continued to stare out the window.

Olivia shifted from one foot to the other and placed a hand on the bedrail. "What happened after that? Do you know who attacked you?"

Matthew shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Look, I know pedophiles aren't top priority when it comes to being a victim so, unless you are really bored or there's no more sexual injustice, why are you here?"

Olivia's tone changed to match Matthew's. "Because your neighbour asked us to look in on you. Regardless of your status, we're required to be here. And, it would make it a lot easier if we can understand what happened to you."

Fin walked around to block Matthew's view of the window and reiterate Olivia's question, "You see anybody follow you, after work?"

"No."

"Hear any cars or anything?"

"A couple. A car door opened but that was it. The next thing I know, someone's calling my name and when I turned around, something hit me. I came to--" Matthew swallowed hard. It hurt to relive it, even in his mind. "When I came to--" he felt ill, "I was bent over a trash can. I could hear someone talking behind me, to another person that was holding me down, and then a voice was close to my ear. Uh, they told me that uh, I- wasn't supposed to be there and-- that I needed to learn my place, again." Matthew's stomach started to turn and a sinking feeling happened in his mouth. They uh-- shoved my pants down and I felt something cold being forced inside me." He shifted uneasily and averted his eyes from seeing either detective's expression.

Fin stepped back. "Do you have an idea what that was?"

"A bottle."

Olivia wrote down what had been said but paused to ask a question, "are you sure?"

Matthew nodded. There was a bitter, disgusted taste in his mouth. "He showed it to me before--." Swallowing the lump in his throat, Matthew squeezed his eyes shut and refused to let the tears fall. He took a moment to compose himself and took a breath as he tipped his head back and stared at a point on the ceiling. "The guy holding me let go while the other one whispered in my ear of what a sick freak I was and that I was lucky it was only a bottle. When they were done berating me, they knocked me down and started kicking me. And then, I don't remember anything after that. When I woke up, it was getting light out so, I pulled my pants up and went home." When he opened them, he brought his eyes back down to the white knit blanket over his legs.

"How'd you break your arm?" Olivia's voice was soft and calming.

Matthew thought for a moment but sighed, defeated. "I don't know. When they were kicking me? I'm not sure."

"Did they have you restrained, at all? Other than the guy holding you down." Fin's voice startled Matthew out of the daze he had entered and back to where they were.

Shaking his head, Matthew absently moved to touch the cast on his left arm, with his right. "Not that I felt. It was cold all around that night. I couldn't move my arms, when I was bent over. Handcuffs, maybe?"

"You said he showed you the bottle before he raped you, did you see his face by chance?" Hoping to find a break, Olivia stood poised to write whatever he might have offered next.

"No."

"Did you recognise the voices?"

Matthew shuttered and hesitated before shaking his head. His expression was nothing short of hidden surprise. He wasn't ready for whatever punishment the Blue Line might offer.

 

SVU Squadroom  
3:43 PM

"So, two guys, follow Matthew home from work, just waiting for him to make a wrong move or possibly force him into where he wasn't supposed to be, assault him and wait for Matthew to screw himself out of his freedom. Hell of a lead to go on." Olivia stood in front of the board and skimmed over the many notes and photos that had been placed there. She sighed and mentally went over her notes of his description of the attack.

John had gotten himself a cup of coffee and an extra one for Olivia. Carrying both, he hand the extra one to her and sipped at his own. "You think someone wanted him in that alleyway? Some sort of vigilante justice, eight years later?"

Nick sat at his desk, the fingers of his left hand, curled around his mouth, in thought. He stared at his notes, trying to find some tie-in to one another. "There has to be something we're missing. The original case, the girl picked Matthew out but, there's no mention of his brother, Daniel, who should have been there with him. Matthew's apartment was squeaky clean of porn, souvenirs, not even a telephone. If this has nothing to do with anything after he got out of prison, then, it's either random or it has to do specifically with Christopher Street." He stood from his chair and walked over to the pinup of the enlarged city block blow up of Matthew's routine path. Scratching his head and staring at the red indication line, the detective sighed inwardly and mentally ran the course as if he were following Matthew.

 

"The only thing left would be to track down the victim's family and talk to them about June 9, 2006. Maybe there's something in what they could tell us." Olivia rubbed the back of her neck with a free hand. She had been there the longest and her eyes were burning from staring at the board for so long.

A voice came from behind them, soft and small but loud enough to get the detectives' attention. "Have you found something to help my son?" Emma Foster had been standing there for a moment prior and listened to Olivia's last statement.

 

"Mrs. Foster,--?" Nick spun around as he recognised her voice and gave a puzzled expression as to why she stood in the the middle of the squadroom.

Emma stepped forward, towards him. "I love my son, detective. I don't like what he might have done but, a mother always loves their children. No matter what they've become." She took a moment to look at his picture on the board before it was covered by John and Fin. "After Matthew's arrest and Danny's funeral, my husband packed up everything of Matt's and put it into storage. I found the key hidden in our dresser and went looking through his things. I didn't find anything questionable but," she took a breath and reach into her coat pocket for a small photo book of Matthew's. "He was seeing a girl named Denise Reagan. He told her more things about him than he'd ever tell us at 19."

Opening the small, leather-covered book he had been handed, Nick flipped through it and paused on a picture of a younger, happier photo of Matthew and a pretty young girl, sitting on his family's sofa, smiling at one another. "Do you know where she is? Did you keep in touch with her?"

Looking down at the photo of Matthew and Denise, in Amaro's hands, Emma looked up at him and took a breath. "We spoke to her a few times during the trial. Afterwards, she stopped by the house, as we were moving out, and told us she was moving to Chelsea. That was the last time I saw her."

Nick caught her eye and smiled at the tiny piece to the puzzle she handed him. "Thank you."

 

Continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Denise Danza  
Chelsea

The street was busy for the middle of the day. A street fair helped crowd the adjacent street even more with parked cars lining the road. A young woman with wavy brown hair and dark sunglasses sat on the front steps of a brownstone, drinking hot tea and soaking up the warm Spring sun. Her eyes met with the two plain clothed detectives walking towards her.

"Denise Reagan?" Olivia asked from six steps away. Pulling out her badge, she came to a stop at the bottom of the stone steps.

The woman sighed and tilted her head as she looked at the two badges Olivia and Nick presented to her. "It's Danza, now. Can I help you?" Over the past seven years, she hadn't aged much but her hair was longer and a few more pounds had been added since she had her second child with her husband. Denise took another sip of her tea before blinking back up at the two.

Nick and Olivia glanced at each other before he removed an old photo of Denise and Matthew from his shirt pocket. They had used the photo to identify her before approaching. "Does the name Matthew Foster mean anything to you?" Showing her the picture of the two teens on the sofa, smiling, Nick hoped she could shed some light on the situation.

Removing her glasses, Denise stared at the picture of Matthew and nodded. "Yea, I knew him. Heard he got out, last year. Did something happen, again?" Her breath caught at hearing his name and a few old feeling welled up as she feared for the worst. Her experience with detectives asking about her ex boyfriend and childhood sweetheart was rarely to deliver good news.

Olivia took a step forward. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about how well you know him. His mom said that you two were high school sweethearts." Sweeping a stray lock of hair behind her right ear, Olivia took out her notepad from her jacket pocket and opened it to a blank page.

Denise stood up and turned to go back upstairs, into the building. "We'd better do this inside." Leading them up to her apartment, Denise had her own questions for the detectives. Once inside the apartment, she refreshed her cup of tea and handed Olivia and Nick their own offered cups. "Matt and I met in grade school but, I moved away. We moved back, after my dad did a tour in Germany. By then, I was in ninth grade and didn't know anybody at school. Matt and I had the same first hour. After graduation, Matt wanted to go to Harvard. He said that he had big plans for us." They sat down at the small round table, in the dining room of the adequately furnished apartment. It had been the same one she bought when she moved, after the trial. 

"Did Matthew ever give you the impression that something was off about him? How well did he fit in, in school?" Nick cleared his throat and had tried to find the best way to phrase his question.

Taking a sip and nearly choking on the tea, Denise's first reaction was defensive. Instead, she calmed herself and answered with a well-mannered tone. "If you're asking if I think Matt raped that little girl, my answer is 'no.' We didn't even kiss until after we graduated high school. His dad would have gone ballistic if Matt acted inappropriate around a girl. Matt had a lot of friends, he fit in just like every other boy in school." She felt as if she had been stand-offish with him but that very question hit a nerve she hated repeating.

Olivia leaned forward in her chair. "During his trial, you were the only character witness that came forward."

"And, I haven't changed my statement. Matthew didn't rape that little girl. He and Danny were taking me home. Matt and I said goodnight and Danny-- The judge didn't even listen to Matt's side. When Matt took the stand, the judge allowed the Prosecution to rip him apart. Matt didn't even attempt to set him straight. Between Danny's death and his parents refusing to be there for him, I think Matt just gave up. I visited him once in prison but, Matt told me to move on with my life." Denise sighed, feeling the weight of the past eight years come back to haunt her. She hadn't liked Matthew's appointed lawyer and felt that Matthew knew more about the laws than the lawyer did but was in no position to say anything. She never told her husband about her prior relationship and hoped it would all go away when she moved to Chelsea. Clearly, it hadn't.

Nick's brow furrowed. "You think Danny raped her, instead of Matthew?"

Denise shivered as she thought back to that night, standing on her front stoop, kissing her newly acquired fiance. "I don't know what happened to her. But, Matthew was with me, when it happened." Her voice was calm even though she had wanted to scream the statement. 

"So, how did he get involved with the rape, in the first place?" Olivia was intrigued.

"I don't know. I didn't see anything because my dad called me upstairs. The next thing I know, Matt's mom called me and told me he was arrested and Danny was dead. Matt told the court what happened but they still didn't believe him. Why are you bringing up something that happened eight years ago?" Her stomach clenched and her throat tightened, waiting for the word of his demise.

Nick sighed and sat back, collecting his thoughts. "Matthew was attacked, in the same alley that the rape happened. So far, he's been uncooperative."

"Is he alright?"

Olivia nodded. "For the most part. He was sexually attacked as well as beaten. Do you know of anyone that might have wanted to hurt him?" Her pen was poised against the paper, ready to write down names of people that might have a grudge against Matthew.

Denise rubbed a hand over her face and tried to clear her mind to think of what she needed to. "Not really. The family of the girl was very outspoken at the trial. Other than that, I wouldn't know anyone to take a swing at him. Sorry." Her jaw tightened from her trying not to show signs of remorse but the more she clenched her teeth, the more her jaw quivered. Wiping away a few stray tears, Denise stood up and made her way back to the open kitchen for the tea kettle. When she returned to the table and refreshed her cup, after offering more tea to the two detectives, she had replaced her stoic expression and readied herself for more questioning. "Do his parents know what happened?"

Nick swallowed a sip of his tea before replacing the cup to the table. "They know."

"And still, they want nothing to do with him?" Denise quickly retracted her question as both detectives only looked at her with hesitation. Her shoulders sank in dejection, brow furrowing as she searched her mind to find the answer of why they would refuse to see their son after he had been attacked.

Olivia looked around the space. "Denise, does your husband know about you and Matthew?"

Denise finished her sip before answering. "No. I met Brian after Matt's trial. He doesn't know anything about that part of my life. I just told him I had a very bad break up with my fiance."

"Fiance?" Amaro perked.

Nodding, Denise took another sip. She could feel her anxiety closing in. "The night that little girl was attacked, he stood on my stoop and proposed." She smiled, sadly, recalling how he had asked her with trembling hands and a small sapphire on a white gold band. "I wore it during the trial and then, afterwards, when he told me to move on-- I didn't have the heart to get rid of it."

"We went through his court records. You didn't show up for his parole hearing. Why not?" Olivia stopped writing and looked up at the young woman.

Clearing her throat and reaching for a tissue, in her right pant pocket, to wipe at her runny nose. "I wanted to go in but something stopped me. So, I sat outside the courthouse and waited. I saw him walk out, with his lawyer. He looked thinner, more tired than before. I guess prison does that to people. He still had a handsome smile." Her hands trembled. "I'm sorry, Brian should be home soon and I have to go, pick up my kids from daycare." Standing up and wiping the moisture from her eyes, she walked Olivia and Nick to the door. "If you see him, again, would you tell him-- tell him I still believe him and I never lost hope that the real rapist would come forward."

 

Home of Jacob Westin  
Brother of Tracy Westin  
1235 W. Christopher Street

"Yea, I heard that trash got out!" Jacob Westin, older than Tracy by two years, had taken care of her and been a best friend when times got tough. Short black hair styled to spike on top had been dyed from dirty blond and his aviator sunglasses with mirror tint became a fixture, no matter the time of year, or hour. He wore his hair different and dark sunglasses to hide the resemblance between he and Tracy. "Are you warnin' me, thinkin' he's going to come back for her? Well, he's too late." He sat in a hand-me-down, tan recliner. Several workbooks for studying to obtain a GED, sat on the floor next to him. His house had been littered with empty beer bottles and cans. He had lived there with his father since his parents divorced.

Fin remained standing while Munch sat down, on the sofa, across from the recliner. "You taking your GED?" Fin hinted at the books that sat idle on the floor.

Jacob hesitated. "They belonged to my sister. Haven't gotten around to gettin' rid of them." His left leg bounced, anxiously. "So, why are you here?" He made no move to acknowledge the books on the floor.

Sighing, Munch shifted on the cushion. "Where were you three nights ago?" Not being one for dallying around the point, he decided to get to the point as the youth was obviously becoming more and more impatient with every minute that ticked by. With pen and paper in hand, John wrote down the details of the visit.

"I was in bed. Asleep." Jacob's voice went flat with boredom.

Fin stood in the middle of the room but looked around the cluttered living room. "Can anyone prove that?"

Jacob shrugged. "I need an alibi to be unconscious? Why the Hell are you here, anyway? He's the one that touched my little sister. Go follow him around." He had watched his sister shrink away from society, after her attack, making Jacob become fiercely protective over her. Yet, everything had crumbled, in the past year. Jacob no longer cared about the outcome of Matthew Foster or the personal woes the man had, after getting out of prison.

"The court transcripts for the trial, back in '06, state that you and your family were pretty outspoken about Matthew Foster being the one who raped Tracy." Fin clarified from his own pad of notes.

"Yea, so?"

Fin looked up from checking his notes he had taken on the file, before leaving the precinct. "You ever look him up, since he got out?"

Jacob shrugged again. "I've seen him a few times."

Munch leaned in. "Ever make your way down to the Meat Packing District?"

"Once or twice."

Fin watched Jacob carefully. "Have you ever decided to follow him, on the few times you 'happened' to see him?"

"I saw him in the grocery store, one time. The dude looked like a real wuss but wasn't in there long. The next time, I saw him, he was skulking around the cemetery." Jacob sneered at the memory of his sister's funeral. "If anything, I'd say this prick was followin' me!"

Fin tilted his head to one side. "You sayin' he knew you'd be at those places? You ever catch him lookin' at you?"

Shaking his head, Jacob frowned, angrily. "Nope. Punk had better not let me catchin' him starin' at me."

Shifting in his position, Fin glanced out the window of the third story apartment and noticed where they were. "Munch, turn around. Isn't that the alley Tracy was attacked in?" Nodding to the dark passage, over his partner's shoulder, Fin stepped forward.

"Yea. We saw that Foster guy and his slimeball friend, or whoever he was, pullin' Tracy into the alley." Jacob sneered and looked away as the two detectives looked out the window, right down into the alley that Matthew and Tracy had been attacked in. He hadn't cared to see where they had been looking. He had avoided that alley since his sister had taken her own life. His eyes had tried to glance up, every now and then but it was ultimately a lost cause as it had swamped his mind with so many memories and possible scenarios of how she had been attacked.

Looking over his shoulder at the young man in the arm chair, Fin raised an eyebrow. "See what this 'friend' looked like or which way he ran off to?"

Jacob shook his head. "Nope. All I know was that the scum wasn't there when the cops rolled up and busted Foster's ass."

Munch stared down at the alley entrance and tried to picture the evening of Tracy's attack and what Jacob might have seen. "How do you know Foster and this missing man knew each other." 

"Don't know. Don't care how they knew each other. All I know was that my sister was screamin' and they were pullin on her like she was a toy between 'em." Jacob sneered at the memory he witnessed, with his father. He hadn't bothered to turn and look back at the alley. 

Munch sighed and turned back to the young man, who sat in the easy chair and stewed in his anger. "How about the rest of that day? Do you remember seeing anything that looked suspicious? Did you see Foster or the other guy?"

Shaking his head, Jacob thought back to that day. "Naw, just the ice cream truck that parked on the corner and didn't move for about thirty minutes. Why?" Jacob shrugged. He wanted them to leave and to stop asking questions of old, painful memories. Especially, when it wouldn't bring his sister back.

Fin looked over his shoulder at the young man. "What ice cream truck? Describe it."

Jacob sighed and stood up in a huff. "Just some white truck with ice cream stickers on it. Kept playing that stupid kiddie ride tune! It was only there for like a month, then it stopped comin' around." Stomping over to the kitchen and removing a jar of peanut butter from the refrigerator. He hadn't been too terribly hungry since the detectives that knocked on his door but, his headache their questions gave him wouldn't quiet, until he ate something. Opening the half-empty jar of Skippy and tossing the lid down on the countre, he pulled a spoon out of the small dishwasher, opposite the stove, and made his way back to his chair.

"Remember what day it stopped comin' around?" Fin raised an eyebrow at the new detail. 

Jacob shrugged and scooped a spoonful of peanut butter. "Yea, the day after my sister was attacked."

"See the driver?"

Glaring over at Fin, Jacob shook his head. He barely remembered the truck and now, he was supposed to remember the driver? "Nope. Just that dumb tan sweater. It had like a goofy-lookin' clown face on it, or somethin'. Guy never took it off. It said somethin' like 'Have A Happy Day', or somethin'."

 

New York City Marble Cemetery  
74 East 2nd Street  
Queens

Munch came to a stop in the middle of the lot of the cemetery. He stood at the foot of the seventh headstone, in a row of 25, with five rows in front and five rows behind him. The name on the polished, hand-crafted heart-shaped stone was that of Tracy Westin. "Jacob said Foster was skulking around her grave. I don't see a specific spot for any entertainment, around here. You?" He called to Fin, who had chosen to do a sweep of the surrounding markers. The day had grown colder and he shivered under his thick wool jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned to look at his partner, standing 10 markers down and a row behind, to his left.

"Might be just a coincidence." Fin stood to the right of a plain glossed slate of white marble with raised gold lettering. He paused for Munch to make his way over to where he stood and look down at the name. "Daniel Foster was buried in the same lot as Tracy Westin."

Shaking his head, Munch disagreed. "Obituaries are printed in the paper. Matthew Foster could have seen the announcement and decided to drop by dear brother's grave, on that day."

Again, Fin disagreed with his conspiracy-minded partner. "Westin also said they spotted each other in the store and Matt split soon after. Why would he intentionally leave himself in plain view of Tracy's family and friends?" The midday sun had taken a liking to his black leather jacket and quickly warmed his back.

John's first reaction was that Matthew Foster had planned to be seen as a twisted version of redemption. But, the more he thought about it, the more it made little sense. He had questioned himself on why both parents chose this same cemetery to bury their children in and had they known the graves would be so close to each other? Ever the theorist, thoughts plagued his mind. There were no coincidences.

 

Continued.


End file.
